Soldiers of Fortune
by TMNT Redneck
Summary: The honorable Foot Clan are on the decline- and they're taking the Turtles down with them. With clans suddenly warring, and a hired killer waiting in the woodworks, the Turtle boys will be in for a hard fight.


**_Disclaimer: I don't own the Turtles or any related characters, just the couple OC's that will be in this fic. _**

**_So it's being rewritten- those of you who saw it last know that. For those of you new folks, I do hope you enjoy what I've got to offer. For the record, this will not be an OC/Turtle fic. If and only if there are any pairings it will be OCxOC only. But it's doubtful. This first chappie is introductory- the Turtles will come in in the next chapter. This is 2k3/'07 verse post the CGI movie._**

**_Without further ado, I leave you to the story, but I beg of you- please, please, please review so I know what the deal is. Any critiques are appreciated, as are any words at all. Enjoy!_**

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Escape <strong>

The earth stood still the second their eyes met. The moment was suspended in time- several years of understanding passed between the pair in that split second. Moist brown eyes bore into flinty blue ones, and the two souls were rent apart. The hunter didn't breath. Slowly she lowered the rifle, and rested it across the low beams of the stand. The weapon's stock thumped against the wooden wall, and the buck bounded off into the dense brush, his tail flashing white. Karalie closed her eyes and ground her teeth, trying to sort through her mixed emotions: anger, at letting the buck run free; shame, for being unable to end his life; and guilt for wanting to take a life to begin with. She lived for the hunt. She thrived on the adrenalin, the pressure, the power of the wilderness that enriched her life each time she stepped out into the forest or onto the plain. Her daddy taught her to shoot four years before, and she had taken to the gun ever since. Hunting had gotten them through tough times, but now they were out of it. She didn't need to kill for food anymore. But she still needed that small piece of life she had so cultivated. She was a good hunter; as long as she didn't look the animals too hard in the eye. Eye contact was an intimate thing. It felt wrong to kill something after looking so deep into its very being.

_Next time, I'll take the shot_, she promised herself.

So she settled back into her 'hunter mode'. She sat stock still, eyes narrowed in concentration. She breathed deeply, and her senses heightened. Her feather light connection to the earth tightened like a vise, and her head was brought out of the clouds of philosophy and daydreams. The metal of her rifle's barrel warmed in her small hands- they clenched tighter when a cold draft blew through the stand. Slowly her head turned, she scanned the area with cold eyes, and slowly her head turned again. For another two hours the monotonous cycle dredged on. Birds twittered in the treetops, squirrels played around the deer feeder. A mouse rustled through the fallen leaves, gathering seeds and corn in its fat little cheeks. When all was significantly peaceful, and the sun was fast sinking in the sky, a large doe tentatively stepped into the clearing. She was on high alert, nose and ears twitching at every puff of wind that rattled leaves and brought new scents from all over. Her tiny hooves cracked a twig, and she stiffened at the sound she had caused. Her wet black nose was lowered to the ground as she nibbled at fallen corn.

A single, cracking shot, and the doe dropped without a twitch into the dirt. Karalie Chisholm was not one to break promises.

Daddy's eyes weren't quite as bright as he used to be. His round, red face had become slightly pinched in the last few years. His once bright smile didn't come quite as easy. His mustache was mostly grey now, and though his hairline had receded steadily over the years, he still boasted a few sheaves of grey-dirty blond hair. He sat on the patio, watching flames dance and flicker in the fire bowl. Bright headlights shone as the red Ford pulled into the drive. His lips pulled into some semblance of a grin as his daughter slid out of the cab. She gave him a bright smile and jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the bed.

"She's a beauty, Daddy. Mama still up?" The girl asked as they met over the broken fence rails.

The man shook his head. "You know how to skin and quarter 'em, anyways."

Karalie nodded, and motioned for him to follow her around the fence and to the truck. She let down the bed as her father came up behind her, and together they dragged the doe carcass out of the bed and bore it to the garage to hang and process it. Neither spoke as the young woman produced glimmering knives that were sharp enough to shave with. They didn't need words to understand one another. Karalie swiftly stripped away the hide of her kill, and each stroke of her knife whittled the animal away. Karalie cast furtive glances at her father. Questions buzzed in her mind. _How was today? How are you? How's Mama?... How's Auron?_ But she didn't want the answers. Her stomach turned and flipped, and each time she tried to open her mouth her tongue would twist in knots. She lost track of how many times she sighed as she worked over the doe.  
>When the meat had been stripped away and packed to freezer bags, and the bones had been likewise packaged for later boiling, Karalie hugged her father and retreated to her room in the house. She snatched her phone out of her pocket and with rapid thumbs sent out a plea to her friends before slipping into the bathroom to shower.<p>

The phone was tossed back onto the bed without being locked, and the message still showed on the bright screen. 'Hook me up. Whatcha got and for how much?'

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><p>Adrianna Cooper was twenty years old, and a realtor by trade. She shared an office in downtown Fort Worth, and was usually off on Sundays. Usually. But when a friend calls in the middle of the night for an appointment, she's more than willing to work a few more hours than necessary. The woman pushed a strand of dark hair from her face and straightened the stack of papers on her desk, then looked up when the bell above her door rang as someone entered.<br>No matter how short and harmless a person was, when you wrapped them in a long black trench coat and paint a dark, determined expression in their face, they become quite intimidating. The young realtor smiled at her friend, and they clasped hands in a silent shake. Karalie kicked herself to the nearest seat with a small smile, and Adrianna took her place behind the heavy desk.

"So you couldn't have even called in for a Tuesday appointment?" The dark headed realtor asked, chuckling as she typed up a report.

"Classes all day on Tuesday, my friend."

Adrianna shook her head, then got down to business with a frown. "Something tells me you don't want a place in Texas anymore."

Karalie kicked her toes listlessly and scratched her arm with a noncommittal shrug. "I've got the money to... Expand my horizons... So to speak."

"You've always liked Tennessee, and Virginia. I can hook you up with an agent up in the Appalachians," the realtor offered.

There was a long moment of silence before blue eyes met dark brown. "I was thinking of different tracts throughout the east, and maybe one in the west," the voice was icy and professional.

Adrianna sighed, knowing that it was decided. One question niggled outrageously in her mind. "Where are you getting all this money, Karrie?"

The girl lowered her gaze and replied bitterly, "inheritance."

Oh. Right. Adrianna shook her head again, this time to get back into her focus after the brief sidestep. "Give me some options, Chisholm."

"Virginia, Tennessee, Pennsylvania-"

"Wow! Our little Jennie Rebel wanting to have a place above the Mason Dixon?!" Karalie glared at her friend, but adjusted her Alamo ball cap and bashfully fingered her Rebel flag hat pins.

"Pennsylvania," she narrowed her eyes to ensure she wasn't interrupted again," and... New York."

Adrianna knew that her friend meant business, and tapped away at her keyboard. Other realtors selling tracts of land in the mentioned states appeared as she narrowed the search. They went on, question after question and answer after answer to slowly narrow down the possibilities. They got down to three tracts- one hundred acres in upstate New York, thirty acres of beautiful Virginia hills, and seventy-five acres of land in Maine (the possibility had never been considered, and Karalie was startled as she remembered that _yes,_ Maine was a part of the United States).

"Maine is too far, and too cold," Karalie decided firmly. The dark headed realtor snorted as she considered that all were far from home and all had much colder winters than Texas.

Virginia seemed the obvious choice. The state was beautiful, steeped in rich history, and it was still _Southern_. New York was cold, foreign. Maybe it was as good a place as Virginia, maybe it wasn't. She'd been once in the summer, and hadn't seen much. But her mind wouldn't release its stranglehold on the preposition. _No,_ she told herself firmly, and opened her mouth to decide on the Virginia plot.

"Both."

She was just as startled as her realtor when the word came unbidden from her mouth.

"Yes, both. Call both realtors."

Adrianna opened and closed her mouth with wide eyes, but the fearful determination that lit her friend's rosy pale face had her scribbling down the numbers before she could protest. She didn't bother asking if her friend even had the money to consider the notion; her grandma had been _rich_. Karalie was biting her lip as she stood, sliding her arms into the sleeves of her long trencher. She was going to do it. She was going to do it.

"It won't be immediate. I still have to finish college." Thank God for scholarships and grants received just before the dark years took their deep plunge. "I'll bring you the money Wednesday- I only have one class that morning. Take care, Addie," and with that she was slamming the door and staggering dumbly down the the steps and to her truck.

Once enclosed in the cold vehicle, Karalie rested her head on the steering wheel. _T__his _was how she was going to spend her inheritance? Her dad would be disappointed. Wouldn't he? It was foolish. She should be using the money to-to... To what? Travel, go to school, help the family. She would regret it one day. One day she'd look out the window and curse herself for blowing away the money.

_Not today._

She put the truck in drive and pulled away, driving mindlessly. What now? What was there to do now that she had tossed away what could be her life? She really shouldn't be allowed to make decisions for herself or anyone else. Easing the truck to a stop at a red light the girl peered out at a sign on the side of the road. She _really _shouldn't be allowed to make decisions. Ever. Especially when she was in one of her 'moods'. But she scribbled the number down on a dirty napkin before the light turned green, and called her dad.

"Daddy?" She asked once the man had picked up the phone. "Can we get a puppy?"

She was a damn stupid girl.


End file.
